Red
by mountainfireflower
Summary: I've got red in my ledger. I'd like to wipe it out. But sometimes the broken can't stand alone. (Prequel to The Avengers.)


I didn't expect to come back from Budapest a different person than when I came, but now as I stand at the window watching the rain drip down, I feel lost. I wonder who I was and who I am now.

There are some facts I know, at least: Natasha Romanoff. Or Natalie Rushman. Or a handful of other aliases. Whichever you prefer. I tuck a piece of red hair behind my ear. I know what I look like. I know that I'm wearing black. I know that I'm in this room, watching the rain, after being tortured in Budapest for ten days—ten days too long.

"Tasha."

I turn. "Fury." It's too dim to see him clearly but I can see the darkness of his eyepatch, and the light reflecting off his bald head. "How did you—"

"Clint." Fury shifted and folded his arms. "He found you."

I set my jaw. "How?"

"I think you'll have to ask him that question."

"I can't be indebted to him. You know as well as I do that Clint and I do not get along."

"Put your feelings aside, Natasha. This man saved your life."

Yes, a deed which will not remain unpaid.

* * *

I'm huddled up in my bed when the memories hit along with a hot flash. Sweat beads on my forehead as shattered fragments hit my brain. The hot fire brand, the manacles around my wrists, the sound of footsteps on the floor as they come to—

I jar back to reality. _Knock. Knock. _A breath of relief escapes me. It's the door. Not footsteps.

"Come in," I call, hugging my knees to my chest.

It's Clint. His face is simultaneously the last one I want to see right now… and the only one.

"You okay?" He comes in and sits down on the chair next to my bed.

I suck in a breath through my teeth and shrug. "I'm fine."

He chuckles. "Nat, you don't go to Budapest for ten days and come back unchanged."

This I know all too well.

We sit in silence. He bounces his leg on the tile and I run fingers through my tangled hair. I really need to get cleaned up. Ten days of dirt, sweat, and torture still clings to my body, but I feel as if no water could scrub off the memories and the pain.

"How did you find me?" I say after a long silence.

"I always know where to find you." This pseudo-flirting brings me back to my early days with Clint, before we became rivals. The days I wish I could get back.

Despite my best efforts, I can't help but smile. I smack him playfully on the shoulder. "Be serious."

He tries to hide back a smile, but it's not the cheerful grin I'm used to seeing. He looks… almost… mortified? He inhales deeply and lifts his eyes to the ceiling. "This is the part where it gets embarrassing."

I nod, nudging him to go on.

"I put a tracker on you before you left."

My eyebrows lower and I tip my head. "Why?"

"Because… you never know what can happen in Budapest."

"You really wanted to make sure I came out alive?" This is dubious. Clint and I have hated each other for five years now. Why stop?

"You're a fellow SHIELD agent. Of course I want to make sure you come out alive. I'd do the same for Agent Taylor or Agent Coulson."

"No, you wouldn't."

He lets out a sigh. "All right, I wouldn't."

"So why me?"

"Because you're Natasha." He stands. "I've got to go."

"No." I look at his empty chair. I can't be left alone. Not when the memories are so potent, so strong. "Stay. Please."

"Are you begging me?" A smirk touches the corner of his lips.

I stare at him, hesitating a moment before letting out a defeated sigh. "Yes."

"All right then. When Natasha begs, who am I to say no?" He sits down. The chair scrapes against the tile. I uncoil my legs and scoot down in my bed, fluffing the pillows until I am comfortable. It feels so strange to be back here, back in the throes of a normal life. Even the sheets on my legs feel too clean, too pure.

I pull the covers up to my neck and huddle into them, trying to erase the memories of ten yesterdays.

* * *

Screaming. Someone's screaming. My eyelids fly open.

Clint's chair scrapes. I think he's above me. "Natasha! Wake up!"

It's only then that I realize: the person that's screaming is me.

I stop, my vocal chords feeling raw. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He puts a hand on my shoulder. "Nightmares?"

I blink into the darkness, trying to remember. Only flashes of red come to mind, but even that is enough to make my muscles tense in terror. "Yes."

"Come here." He pulls back the covers and sits on the edge of the bed, pulling me into his arms. I tense, but allow him to do it anyway.

"What is wrong with you, Clint?"

"Hey. I know how it is to be compromised, to be made into something you're not." He rests his chin on my head. "I'm just trying to help."

"I thought you hated me."

He lets out a long sigh. "Not anymore."

For some reason I smile, pondering his words and trying to understand the conflicting feelings taking over my heart. Is this love?

I stiffen. No. Love is for children. I owe him a debt.


End file.
